


Just in Case

by OldDVS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and inheritance, F/M, Gen, Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldDVS/pseuds/OldDVS
Summary: Draco actually takes Hermionie out to lunch at a Muggle restaurant.  A nice one.   Just in case her life wasn't complicated enough, here's Draco explaining another obscure wizarding tradition, and a little favor he'd like her to extend to him.





	Just in Case

**Author's Note:**

> Another story languishing on the hard drive for more than a decade, scraped off, polished a bit and presented for the general amusement.

Just in Case  
Tara Tory

He was waiting by the reception desk, tall and straight. His attire was crisp and impeccable, although it had that old-fashioned cut that most wizarding-produced clothing could not avoid. Lucky for him, vintage was in again. He greeted her politely and turned towards the maitre d', who instantly swept before them to direct them to one of the nicest tables in the house. 

It was funny that Malfoy engendered that response even from Muggles. She wondered how he had chosen this place, given that he probably had almost no Muggle contact or knowledge. He must have asked someone. And what was he up to? She had almost not responded to the lovely note. “A matter of personal concern.” which he hoped she would, 'kindly facilitate.”

Her first reaction was to decline. But her curiosity kept prodding at her. Flickering a little stronger every time she had read through the invitation. She'd asked a few friends, who had given her conflicting advice, and then she had gone with her instincts.

Well, if nothing else it was a free meal with a handsome man. Her decision had probably been influenced by the fact that Ron was being more than usually Ron-like and had forgotten that they were to go out to eat last night. He had chosen Quidditch instead, got caught up in the game and completely forgot. She was not going to marry Ron until he was at least 25. She'd read that human males didn't finish maturing completely until then, and Ron was apparently bent on proving that his was true about magical men as well. 

So here she was, seated at a lovely table with Draco Malfoy, whose blond hair gleamed in the soft light. The light didn't do much to soften his features, but at least his eyes were not hard or calculating. He looked entirely different from the gaunt, skittish young man who had survived the final battle. Maturity looked good on him. He was almost handsome. 

They didn't say much as they went through the ritual of ordering—no wine for her, but he ordered a bottle anyway. She opted for fish, and he decided on the same. As the waiter left them, Hermione reached into her pocket and touched her wand, activating her pre-cast privacy spell just as he also cast a similar spell. It caused a bit of flare in the candle. She grinned at his expression.

“So, Mr. Malfoy. When you contacted me, you said you wished to discuss a private matter. What sort of secret meeting happens in public?”

“A traditional one, Miss Granger.” So careful. So polite.

Who knew Draco Malfoy could do polite that actually was polite? She waited expectantly.

“As you know, I am to become engaged next week to Astoria Greengrass.”

“I'd heard the rumors.”

“You may not know that traditionally, a man in my position as heir to a major house is required to spend several days before the announcement meeting with all the women who might have a claim him. So that the news will not be a shock and also to discover if there are impediments. The woman is supposed to do the same.”

It made a bit of sense. In case someone was pregnant? Or had been misled by earlier courting? She nodded for him to go on, although what it had to do with her was a mystery. “I haven't got any claim on you,” she said, slowly.

“To my sorrow, you are correct.”

Her eyebrow went up. He smiled slightly, idly toying with a fork. “Granger, if you had not been Muggle born, you would have topped my list when I went looking for a wife. Hero, brilliant, pretty, reasonably good connections.”

Blink. Blink again. What?

“But I could not have even entertained the notion.”

“Of course not. We were enemies,” she pointed out. Not to mention that she and Ron were seriously involved. No one was actually considering courting her because they knew of her connection to Ron.

They both waited as the wine was brought and poured.

As soon as they were alone again, Malfoy said, “Our negative experiences could have been...negotiated.” He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “The other difficulties would have defeated me. I could not distress my family to that extent. The other connections that would be lost to me would be considerable. We have already lost status socially because of the war.” The waiter came with their starter. They began to eat, but Malfoy managed to continue talking between neat small bites. “It would have taken extensive spellwork to keep my house from killing us. The anti-muggle spells have been layered on for generations.”

“Fascinating,” she said, because it was. 

“In earlier times, I would have asked you to carry my bastard.”

Her eyes went wide. 

“In that way my line would still benefit, even if the child could not inherit or make a claim on me. It takes advance planning. After the child is conceived, the woman is sent very far away. Canada was the choice, a hundred years ago.” He could see the questions bubbling up. “Some pure-blood wedding vows include spells that kill all bastards—and the mother of that child. A clear line, a new beginning. It couldn't reach more than a thousand miles, hence sending them far away.”

“A bit drastic,” she murmured.

“Yes. Astoria and I are modern enough not to include it, but I am not sure what my ancestors have done to protect the line.” He daintily finished the last bite on his plate and was quiet as the waiter removed the old dishes to make way for the new.

“I'm not sure why you're telling me this. I'm going to marry Ron.” Probably. 

“Improving the Weasley line immensely but a waste of your potential,” he said. “My plan is to have three children. My best hope is that one of your grandchildren marries one of mine.” She almost choked on her bite of fish.

He took the moment to pour himself more wine. “However, as recent conflicts have illustrated, one never knows what will happen. Unfortunately, there is no future that can be guaranteed.” There is, at this point, only one thing I can do.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle made of intricately blown glass. The stopper featured an elaborate M. It was round, the size of an orange and of white glass with flecks of black mica swirled through. He held it out to her and she took it before remembering that it could have been a portkey or a bomb. 

“If I die, and all my children as well, and my wife dies or marries someone else, I ask that you use this. The...your husband must be gone as well.”

Hermione knew that Ron's planned career with the Aurors wasn't without risk. He'd been joking just yesterday that just hanging around Harry had its dangers. She could become a widow at a young age.

“If you are still of childbearing age, or if you have a daughter that will assume the task, take this and bear for my line a child. There will be an endowment left in my will for a child so born. One can make this offer to only one, and it can be made only once.”

She said slowly,“I can imagine that multiple children would cause multiple problems.” As the very least. 

“This gift can't be given away to others. Only you, or your daughter. Or grand daughter, I suppose. The child must be given a name which includes mine. Michael Draco, perhaps. And whatever last name you choose, but not Malfoy.”

“I see.” Only offered once. If she gave it back.... She could see his fear, his tenseness as he waited for her to reject it. Thoughtfully, she tucked it into her pocket and heard the slight huff of his expelled breath. 

“Some time, in the future, if the entire line of the family is gone, all of it, there is a blood spell that can be done. The name and the position, the line, is offered to the one who has the strongest blood connection to the lost family. If there is more than claimant of equal status, equal Malfoy blood, then the person with the most magical power is chosen. So if my father, for example, had offered this to a lady, or his father, your child might be...more powerful.”

Or a squib, if his genetic gamble didn't pay off. “It's very complex,” she managed to say, and kept on eating to prevent anything else from falling out of her lips. 

Draco smiled sourly. “I could have never married you anyway. Potter would have been underfoot and your house elf legislation and meddling would have caused me to go insane.”

“And I would have been a terrible Mrs. Malfoy,” she agreed, trying not to smile.

“You would have made a magnificent wife, though,” Draco said as he finished his meal. Then he gave a sly grin and rubbed his chin—right where she had smacked him all those years ago. And what did that mean?

“Your husband will ask, before your wedding, if you are 'keeping anything for the future.' It is considered honest to say so, and an honorable thing to do for anther line. But you don't have to say whose future you are keeping. You should not,” he decided. 

“Probably not,” she agreed. Just imagine.

“If the man for some reason loses his honor to the point that the woman feels his line should not continue, she can open the bottle, banish the contents. To be quite pointed in the matter, the woman might return the bottle to the sender.”

It was a very harsh message to the man. But there was also another message here. There was an implication that he intended to live his life so that she would never be inspired to return the bottle? To be a man she could...respect?

“Of course, sometimes the bottle was just returned. Or returned smashed. Or returned by her husband.”

“Or used politically, to influence someone?” she suggested.

“Oh, yes. Which is why it is supposed to remain a secret between two people.” He met her eyes. She looked back.

The waiter returned and asked if they wanted dessert. They both declined. When the bill was presented Malfoy actually paid with a credit card. She was shocked. He escorted her out to the curb and took his formal and polite leave. She watched him walk away, his hair gleaming even in the pale light of the overcast day. 

She went home to the tiny flat she was renting in a very small alley diagonal to Diagon Alley. She went to the nook which held her bed, changed into her casual clothing and then, bottle in hand, knelt and pulled out her bottom drawer. She unlocked the case tucked into the corner, and took off the protective spell, and then pulled out of that box a smaller box, which was protected by an even more complex spell. Inside it was cushioned and velvet lined. The box had originally been designed to protect potions bottles, there were three depressions. Two were filled. One held a dark green bottle that McGonnagal had found amid Professor Snape's possessions when they had cleared away his things at Hogwarts. The headmistress had asked her to keep it safe and that she would explain at a later date what it was. 

Hermione had speculated about it for quite some time. Now she had new reasons to continue to do so. Perhaps it was time for a visit to Hogwarts. The second bottle had been given to her by an elderly man who had accosted her in Hogsmeade and stammered through a few sentences that had made no sense at all and run off. Which now made more sense, except that he had never left his name. She had asked Molly, who had looked at the bottle and told her the polite thing to do was hide it away, and she never need bother herself about it.

And now this. Absently, she rearranged the bottles so that Snape's was in the middle and the unknown man's was at the right. In the depression on the left, she put Malfoy's bottle. It just fit. Carefully she lowered the wooden lid and spelled it secure again, then slid it into the case and locked that with a much stronger spell than she had used before.

Yes, she would go talk to the headmistress about this. She really needed more information and Hogwarts had always been the source of it. 

And meanwhile, she thought, perhaps she should go shopping for a bigger box.


End file.
